The New Kid
by samsam829
Summary: Fletcher has given up on Chyna to pursue...other interests, like maybe the new kind in the A.N.T. Farm? Fletcher x OC Just thee prologue so far. THIS IS BOY X BOY. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.
1. Prologue

The New Kid

Prologue

BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEE-

Fletcher shot his hand out to silence the alarm clock.

Monday. Another weekend over, Now he would have to go back to school, back to boring classrooms and boring teachers. He would have to wait all week to get back to his art. Sure, he had finished a few projects over the weekend, but if he didn't have school, he could work on something big. Something spectacular! Nope, he had algebra to do.

Fletcher rolled out of his bed, quite literally. He slumped down the side of the bed and sat like a ragdoll on the floor for a moment before forcing himself to his feet. He stood up slowly, still tired, he had stayed up late last night, where were his pants? Oh, he had needed them for…something… He couldn't remember what. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his balled up fists, looking like a giant three year old. He padded over to the closet where he grabbed a shirt and a pair of pants at random, what the heck, might as well throw in a vest. He grabbed some fresh socks and underwear from his dresser and headed into the bathroom.

When trying to take off his shirt he ended up getting stuck. After a minute of struggling, he flung the shirt to the side, now fully awake. He slipped out of his boxers and stood in the middle of the bathroom naked. His slim frame shivered in the early morning cold, the house hadn't been heated by the sun yet. In fact, the sun wasn't even up.

He stared at himself in the mirror, everything was normal, everything in place, why did he feel like he had forgotten something?

He turned on the water, giving it a moment to heat up before stepping under the stream. The chill instantly seeped out of him. HE reached for his shampoo, gone. What had he done with that, it was with the pants, he knew that much… He stepped out of the shower and grabbed another shampoo from the cabinet, then stepped in again.

He rubbed his scalp thoroughly, as if it would remind him of what he had been doing before he went to sleep last night, he had been _so _tired… He took note of himself as he washed, he was thin, very thin, a skinny thing… but wiry, the beginnings of muscles showed in his arms, legs, stomach, chest… he had been trying to impress a girl, working out. Not now though.

Chyna had made it clear that she wasn't interested in him and he had kept bothering her, how could e have done that, so rude. Fletcher had resolved to pursue other interests, but none had cropped up. It was funny, the moment he stopped obsessing over her, she was no longer as irresistible to him.

"Hah," he laughed aloud at his own thought. Then he got to _it. _He sobbed scrubbing here, he had to be delicate.

As of late, Fletcher had begun puberty; at first it was all internal. His voice changed, that was annoying, the cracks and random changes in mid-conversation… He had become distracted too; he could never focus or remember things. Then the external had come, namely in his, um, lower regions…

Fletcher knew what a boner was; he just wasn't used to having them so…often. It was annoying, he couldn't walk to the board in class, his pants were always too tight. And the hair! He had hair all over now! Under his arms, on his face, below… That part was a little cool; it made him feel like a guy, a real mans-man, which was reinforcing to his self-esteem, considering his recent realization…

One thing he enjoyed about these changes, was the effect it had had on his wiener, no he was a big boy now, his dick. Yeah! That was what the older boys said, not wiener or pee-pee, dick! In short, it wasn't. It had gotten taller just as he had. It wasn't _huge_, but it was bigger, which made him happy, and still had some growing to do! But now it was sensitive to the touch, he had to wash carefully.

He poured some soap into his hand, no rough washcloth here! He wrapped his hand around it and moaned involuntarily, not again, just wash this time, don't give in… But he did, he gave in.

"_Some self-control you have!", _he thought at himself, but he couldn't stop now, not until he was done.

His hand jerked up and down on his dick at a feverish pace. HE moaned, thrusting himself into his hand.

He had only started doing this recently, after one morning he had woken up with wet sheets, it wasn't pee. A quick search of the internet was enough to learn what had happened, and how to do it himself. How to please himself.

He quickened his pace, his thrusting erratic, his thoughts on one thing, on that fantasy of his. He let out a prolonged moan as he blew his load into his hand. He felt absolute pleasure, then shame, that was wrong. White, sticky, so fun. He panted for a moment, then finished washing, making sure to clean the spunk out of his new hair.

Fletcher dried off and pulled on some boxer-briefs. He brushed his teeth, applied deodorant, went through all his morning rituals, then finished dressing. He brushed his hair, then shook his head, so it would mess up again.

As he stepped out of the bathroom he saw it. On the other side of the room was the collage he had made last night, there were his pants and shampoo!

HE packed his bag for school, put on his shoes, made sure he was ready for the day. Then he went to look at it, the special sketch, he kept it in the closet. Part of his fantasy.

He pulled out the rough charcoal sketch, it depicted a kiss. It started just above the couples' noses, and stopped at their waists. Fletcher was ashamed of the sketch, of what it meant, of the entire fantasy, of all of it! But he wanted so badly for it.

The sketch, even if you couldn't see their faces, clearly was of two boys, one of them was Fletcher.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Fletcher grabbed a bowl of cereal for breakfast and ate it hurriedly, checking the clock every couple of seconds. He had missed the bus before and it was a long walk, his parents had already left for work. He put his dishes in the sink, grabbed his bag and ran out the door, making sure to lock it behind him. He raced to the bus-stop.

Standing on the corner, Fletcher checked his watch, wait no, he didn't wear a watch, why would he check that… so distracted… His thoughts wandered back to his morning in the shower. He knew it was wrong, boys liked girls, plain and simple. He couldn't be gay, no; he didn't want to be different, not again. It was already hard enough at that school full of older kids…

He didn't buy into the religious side of it though. He wasn't very religious at all really. But, he thought if there was a God, then he wasn't likely to single out a group of people for his divine hatred. No, Fletcher didn't even mind gay people at all; his parents had lots of gay friends… HE just didn't want to be gay…

He bus came around the corner with a screech of tires that made you want to claw at your ears. Fletcher was jolted out of his daze. The bus opened its doors with a hydraulic hiss, he climbed up the stairs. He was the first one on the bus, he always was, first stop and all. He took a seat next to the emergency exit window, you could never be too careful…

Fletcher barely noticed as other students get on the bus, he just sat there and stared out the window, lost in thought. He pulled his bag into his lap as a large boy dropped into the seat next to him, all the others were full. The boy was engaged in a loud conversation with his friend across the aisle.

"Yeah, he's a fricken' fag," said the large boy to his friend, Fletcher snapped his eyes open. This wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want people using him as an insult, hating him without even knowing him. He popped open a tube of paint and slipped it into the boys bag.

SCHOOL

Fletcher made a quick stop at his locker then headed on to the A.N.T. Farm. Chyna and Olive were already there, chatting animatedly.

"Hey, Fletcher, what's up?", called Chyna as he entered the room.

"What? Oh! Oh, nothing…", he replied, glancing up from his feet.

"Are you okay? You seem a little off…".

"Me? Nooo! Why would you say that?"

"Okay…? Never mind, then..?"

The day passed uneventfully, Chyna sang some songs, Olive managed to annoy everyone, but Fletcher… HE couldn't paint. Nothing inspired him, not a single idea, nothing.

His misery was complete, he would never fit in and now the only thing that he had, his art, he couldn't even do that!

"Fletcher, are you okay?", asked Gibson, walking towards him, "You haven't painted a thing all day… r sculpted, or sketched or drawn… Hey! There are lots of art things to do!" Gibson wandered off, still listing things.

Fletcher felt overwhelmed, tears built up in his eyes. He raced out of the room, running right into the bathroom and closing himself in a stall. He sat in there, sobbing quietly; it felt good to let it out.

"Hey, are you okay?", asked a quiet voice, it was a nice voice, so calm and soft. Fletcher saw a pair of bright green tennis shoes right outside his stall.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," he said, wiping his nose.

"All right, just makin' sure, you hold on there."

"Yeah, thanks…"

The green shoes walked off and Fletcher heard the bathroom door close. He came out of the stall and washed his face before heading back to the A.N.T. Farm, where it looked like Gibson was introducing a new A.N.T.

"Everyone, this is Connor, he's gonna be joining us in the A.N.T. program!"

Fletcher was blown away. The boy was perfect. HE seemed to be around Fletcher's age and size, he was thin, but clearly well built. His light brown hair was cut choppy and his eyes were a piercing green. Fletcher was head over heels. And, he was wearing a pair of bright green tennis shoes.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Fletcher watched from the other side of the room while Connor was shown around the A.N.T. Farm. He couldn't take his eyes off of him. He still hadn't spoken a word, he just nodded or shook his head, or smiled… That smile, it was so perfect. Ir was just a slight turn of the lips, barely any smile at all, but so beautiful…

Fletcher sketched him from across the room. Fletcher sketched every part of his perfect face; eyes, lips, even his nose. The boy was all around perfect! Fletcher couldn't get him out of his head, there wasn't even any room left in his thoughts for bemoaning himself. It was as if Connor had swooped in and saved him from his sadness. They hadn't even spoken yet.

Fletcher was totally smitten, but it looked like most of the girls in class were too… When he was introduced to Chyna, she giggled a hello, complemented him on his muscles, and squeezed his biceps. Fletcher felt as if he could jump across the desk and throttle her. How dare she touch him? How dare she flirt with him? Fletcher was grateful that Connor didn't flirt back, didn't even flex for her.

Fletcher kept fawning over Connor until the final bell, when he made sure to walk out the door directly behind Connor. He felt like a perv, but he made sure to watch him leave. Yep, perfect ass too. Fletcher grabbed his bag from his locker and headed to the buses, he sat in his usual seat, completely engrossed in his thoughts, all of them of Connor. He could barely hear the noise of conversation on the bus…"So you just opened your bag and it was full of paint?"…

"Excuse me", a quiet voice roused him from his thoughts so quiet he almost didn't hear it, such a beautiful voice…

"Excuse me", repeated Connor, "Do you mind if I sit here?"

"Oh, um I, you… sure, yes, hiiiii", said Fletcher a vacant smile spreading across his face.

"Okay?", said Connor with a chuckle, "Hey, you're in the A.N.T. Program right? You're an artist, Fletcher, right?"

"Yes, yes that's me, I, Fletcher…yes."

Connor laughed. It was the best thing Fletcher had ever heard. He took the saet next to Fletcher. He brushed against him, Fletcher felt warm and fuzzy inside.

"So what's your talent?"' asked Fletcher, proud of himself for managing an actual sentence.

"Oh, I'm a musician."

"Oh, really? So is Chyna!"

"I know, she told me about four times", said Connor with a hint of annoyance. Fletcher cheered in his head, Connor obviously didn't like Chyna, at least, not _ like _like. The bus rolled out of the school parking lot and started off on its way to take everyone home.

"Yeah, she can be pretty annoying when she talks to guys she thinks are cute…"

"She thinks I'm cute?"

"Obviously, dude, all the girls in class do!"

"Well, I'm flattered, but they really aren't my type…"

"None of them? Not a single girl in the class?"

"Here's my stop", said Connor standing to go, "Oh, and yes, not a single _girl _in the class." He left Fletcher with only a smile.

.


End file.
